


Pour real life down on me

by gealach



Series: Thy fearful symmetry [1]
Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - House of M, Family, Gen, M/M, Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:40:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gealach/pseuds/gealach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House of M. The last day of Akihiro Howlett.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pour real life down on me

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta'd** by [TheBrilliantDarkness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrilliantDarkness/pseuds/TheBrilliantDarkness)
> 
> The title comes from Evanescence's _Good enough_.

It was so relaxing to watch his mother pour the tea. Akihiro loved every moment of the ceremony, loved the way his mother moved: every step, every flick of the wrist were done with effortless grace. Her bones were old and her flesh so thin, but still she held herself upright, strong and proud; still she wore her colourful kimono. Those took so much time to wear now, but she was as stubborn as he was and would always present herself as elegant as ever.

It was relaxing to come here and watch her, relaxing to come here and talk to her of small things. He didn't bother her with his work, with the blood on his hands, but discussed poetry, or the state of her garden. Sometimes he would read to her, and she would tilt her head ever so slightly to the right – with age her hearing had worsened – and listen raptly to his voice. She loved, most of all, when he read poetry; and he loved the look on her face, a look of child-like pleasure, lips parting in a sigh when he finished some poem which, he imagined, she had loved in her youth.

But now she was pouring the tea, and her movements could put the world right again, and her elegance was a comfort.

They sat and drank in silence, and as Akihiro finished she asked to be brought to see her garden.

The request shocked him; she didn't use to ask for help with the simple movements of everyday life. He was at her side in an instant, and tried not to flinch at the snap of her old bones as she straightened up, hid his discomfort with a smile when she asked for his forearm to walk.

The garden was quiet, peaceful and well-kept as ever. She had them stand near the cherry trees and put her free hand on the oldest. She sighed.

“Okaasan?”

“Aki,” she said, “We need to talk.”

Mind reeling with horrid possibilities – was she ill? Oh, God, was she _dying?_ – Akihiro settled for the only thing he could fix.

“Did your mutant neighbors harass you? Shall I have them killed, okaasan?”

“No.” She shook her head, amusement on her face. “And you shouldn't kill them one after the other like this, it's nice to have noises come from the other houses –”

 _Well then they shouldn't be_ rude _to you._ “Then what is it, okaasan? Are they harassing Akihira-san? Should I put guards around his house?”

She snorted softly and raised her hand to cup his face. “Aki. You know he won't have them.”

“I could do it without his knowledge.”

“Shush, silly boy.” Smiling, she lightly flicked his cheek. “Akihira-san is fine.”

“Then?” She looked so frail against the tree, so mortal. White hair and wrinkled face and a hunch in her back – Akihiro held back the tears. He didn't want this moment to come.

_Were you like me, okaasan. Were you like us._

She took his hand. “You're a big man, you can't keep coming to your old okaasan _every_ day. I'm sure you have better things to do.”

Relief washed over him. She was fine. Oh, she was _fine._ “I like coming here.”

“I'm just a burden on your shoulders. I –”

“Don't say such things, okaasan.” Akihiro brought her hand to his cheek again. “You're not a burden.” _And I'll lose you soon_. “I like to keep you company.”

“Oh, I'm just an old lady. I don't need much.” She brushed her fingers on his cheek. “It's not right for you to always keep your man waiting.”

There was a time she had refused to use those two words. _Your man_. A time she had screamed at the mere idea; Akihiro still remembered when she had interrupted a board meeting to throw insults at Romulus, when really, it had been Akihiro who had seduced the old mutant, not the other way around. But his okaasan had been furious, beautiful in her rage and so frail against the assembled mutants. She had kicked Yoshida-san in the shins, he recalled, and grinned at the memory.

“He knows you're important to me, okaasan. He's fine with this.” _He knows we're running out of time, he knows you'll die soon, okaasan. You're only human._ Akihiro pressed a kiss on her palm.

Something of his thoughts reflected on his face, maybe, because she hissed and shook her head and then smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “I suppose you two make up for it during the night, then.”

“Okaasan!” Akihiro laughed in delight, feigning shock, when, in truth, this was so like her - distracting him from gloomy thoughts with some scandalous double entendre. “Now, that's not a topic I'll discuss with you.”

“Why not? My son is a beautiful, accomplished man.” She tugged at his scarf to have him bend down, and kissed him on the forehead. “And you deserve all the happiness you can, Aki.” She hummed softly.

He deserved for her to live forever, nothing else. He didn't want to lose her.

But this was impossible.

“I'm happy being here with you.”

“You're such a silly boy.” She smiled. They walked in the garden for a while still, but soon she was breathless, and Akihiro walked her to the house again and ordered her guards to pay more attention to her mutant neighbors, just in case. This neighborhood was filled with them, and he knew they despised the old Sapiens that “polluted the air they breathed”. Disgusting bastards. It was annoying, but he couldn't kill the entire neighbourhood – that would be a little bit too over the line, and would surely attract the attention of the Maximoffs; and she refused to move to his place. She had lived in that house for most of her life, since when she had been driven away from Jasmine Falls and had found protection in Akihira-san's household. And the house was full of memories for him too; he didn't want to leave it to those arrogant bastards.

There, in the garden, he had taken his first steps; under the cherry tree, he had learnt how to fight. On the threshold he had unsheathed his claws for the first time, killing a thief who had come for Akihira-san's riches, and his mother had held him and told him everything would be all right, that his father was like this too.

His father. His _biological_ father; that was the first time Akihiro had heard of him.

On the same threshold he had stood years later, when that man had come into his life, and he had driven him away with fury. He hadn't wanted to hear a word of apology from the man who had abandoned his mother.

Against the outer walls he had fucked his biological father's mutant wife, when she had visited at the bastard's request – he hadn't dared approach Akihiro again himself – to explain that the new world order would be beneficial to him, were he to join S.H.I.E.L.D. But the new world order wouldn't, _couldn't_ be beneficial to his mother, who was only human, so he had turned down the offer. Agent Darkhölme had been so beautiful in the rain, softly gasping against his ear, legs around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders; he had made her compliant with his pheromones, and, as he pounded into her, Akihiro had thought only of the face the bastard would make were he to ever _find out_.

Of course the bastard had chosen her, of _course_ he had chosen a blue, violent beauty instead of the graceful iron-clad frailty of his mother, and Akihiro had snarled and bitten Agent Darkhölme hard enough to leave a mark, hoping his bastard father would smell his own son on her.

And there, at the beginning of the road, he had tracked down the teen who used to spy on the house, just to discover she was his little sister – spawned by another abandoned woman like his own mother; and he had taken her in for a while, this silent girl who had claws like him and big wary eyes. But the bastard had taken a hold of her soon enough, and she had been sent away to become an agent like him.

Memories. The house was his, was _his mother's,_ and he wouldn't ever permit egotistical mutants to destroy it.

At home he pooled his scarf on the console and heard the TV being turned down. “Love?”

He reached the living room and saw Romulus was sat on the sofa, head tilted to look back at him as he entered. “How was your mother?”

“Fine.” Akihiro embraced him from behind and pressed a kiss to his lips. “What were you watching?”

“Your father is attacking Genosha. With some other people. It's a mess –”

“Mh-mh.” Akihiro shut him up with a kiss. “My father? A miracle for a frail human like Akihira-san to do something like this.”

“I meant –”

“I know what you meant. That DNA-cannon.” He bit Romulus' lips.

“It's strange for him to –”

“So help me, if you talk about James Howlett again –” Akihiro swung his legs onto the couch, all the while successfully keeping his lips pressed to Romulus' face. He straddled him, arms around his neck. “Stop it now, love.” He bit harder, and Romulus moaned, big strong hands coming to settle on Akihiro's hips.

“I'll have to see what the hell he's doing –” Romulus was breathless. “The Maximoffs won't be pleased.”

“Well, that can wait. Your men are on it, I suppose?”

“Our men, love.” Romulus bit in return, a hand coming up to tug at his hair. _Oh, God_.

“Mh-mh. Say that again.”

“Our men. Your men.” Romulus took a handful of hair and yanked, “Everything, everything's yours, love, everything –”

Akihiro moaned, grinding down against Romulus' erection. Way too many clothes. Way too many.

“But he's behaving strangely ever since some days ago –”

Akihiro broke the kiss and bit Romulus hard on his muscular shoulder. “I'm pressed against you and you think about the bastard? Should I be offended?”

“Of course not –”

“I swear, sometimes your fixation is so –”

“I hate him for what he did to you, love, just that. I hate him for –”

Frustrated, Akihiro kissed him again, lips crashing violently on Romulus', teeth nipping at Romulus' flesh. “I don't care about him. Why would I care about him when I have you?”

Moaning, Romulus deepened the kiss and tugged sharply at his hair, the other hand pressing Akihiro even more to himself, and for a while they stayed like this, till the pressure on his own erection was to much for Akihiro; he wanted, _needed_ something more, couldn't content himself with grinding on the couch like horny teenagers.

Breathless, he tilted his head away from Romulus. “Do you want to –”

“ _Yes_.” Romulus growled, and licked his throat. Akihiro shivered.

“Bedroom?”

Romulus rose from the couch, strong arms around him to keep him from falling, and Akihiro laughed in delight, wrapping his legs around his waist.

In the bedroom he disentangled himself from Romulus and pushed him on the bed, straddling him as he helped him out of his shirt, as he threw it on the ground. Romulus made to move, but he pushed him down again. “Relax and enjoy this, love.”

Akihiro pulled Romulus' trousers down, inch by inch, stopping every now and then to press kisses on his thighs, his calves. He unsheathed his claws to free Romulus from his boxers, and Romulus hissed and arched, glorious in his nakedness, blood on his hips. Akihiro straddled Romulus' chest as he reached to pull Romulus' beautiful hair free from his tie, allowing it to spread over the cushions. It was so long, so soft, so beautiful. Akihiro loved to entangle his fingers in it, to lay above Romulus and play with it.

He unbuttoned his own shirt, shook it off his shoulders, silk pooling behind him and caressing Romulus' sensitive erection. “ _Akihiro_ –” he exhaled, and his name from those lips was poison.

“Yes. I'm here.” Akihiro swung his legs to the side, got out of the bed to free himself of his jeans, his shorts. His cock sprung free and bobbed, already leaking precome.

Romulus was looking up at him. “I don't deserve you. You're too perfect, too beautiful for me. You deserve so much more. I –”

“Oh, it's one of those nights.” Akihiro climbed back on the bed and straddled Romulus again, bent low, his hair caressing Romulus' face. “Shut up and kiss me, my love.” Romulus kissed him, licked him, trailed his lips over his jawline, his ear, his neck. Akihiro, breathless, reached down to slide a finger into himself, two, three. He thrust and jerked them fast, eager to stretch himself, to have Romulus inside him. Romulus' hands were running on his back, grasping his neck, tugging at his hair, and Akihiro wouldn't last for long, so he grabbed Romulus' erection and seated himself on it, a whine escaping his lips, a loud moan coming from Romulus'. They moved as they always did, in perfect unison, Akihiro grinding as slowly as he could, he wanted to make this last so, so, so much – Romulus reached out to wrap a hand around Akihiro's cock, and stroked it to the rhythm of his thrusts, and Akihiro moaned and arched and threw his head backwards, riding with abandon.

“Akihiro – _oh_ , Akihiro –”

“Yes –”

“You're too much – too much. How can you want me –”

The same thought crossed Akihiro's mind, sometimes. Romulus was the way to the top, had always been the means to an end, but somewhere along the way he had come to care for the old, wrinkled mutant. He gave him what he needed and never asked for anything. The old man truly desired him. Akihiro knew desire for himself, had learnt early to use it, knew it was a weapon, but this was at times different, this was something _else_. He had found himself desiring, more and more, Romulus' love, Romulus' company. He had found himself loving him back.

“Always asking the same question, you're like an old stubborn cat.” Akihiro laughed, and disentangled Romulus's fingers from his cock. “Put those claws of yours to better use.” No other words necessary, Romulus grasped his hips and scratched him, stuck his nails in Akihiro's flesh. Akihiro, claws unsheathing at the stimulus, moaned and gyrated his hips, quickening his pace. “Oh, yes, like that. _Oh_ –” he gasped at Romulus' expert alternation of hitting his prostate and thrusting his nails inside him.

It was too much, having so much of Romulus inside him, and Akihiro shut his eyes, focusing on the ride, on Romulus' broken moans, on his orgasm mounting like a wave. Akihiro felt something hit his mind –

God, this was the best ride he'd ever had. Daken didn't recall exactly how they'd ended up like this, didn't recall why Romulus was _permitting_ him to do this instead of fucking him bloody against a wall, but this was perfect. It was the right blending of pain and pleasure, the pain not too much as to override the pleasure, endorphins kicking and his orgasm mounting, and mounting, and mounting like a wave. For a strange, fleeting moment he felt _whole_ and then there was a void in his chest, a black hole sucking everything. He rode the sensation, trying to regain it, chasing it, but it was gone, and he felt a tear stream down his cheek, a sob escaping his lips. This was so strange, so foreign, not an orgasm but something different, something lost and unfindable, something he couldn't understand. He opened his eyes to look down at Romulus, and his master's face was –

– was contorted into something ugly, something furious, horrible, obscene. Romulus sneered at him, dug his nails into Daken's flesh till his fingers were phalanx-deep, and Daken cried out at the brutality of it.

“So you're a sentimental fool deep in that tiny brain of yours?”

What? Romulus seemed furious. Was he angry at him? What –

Romulus flipped them over, went on his knees on the bed, and Daken's head slammed against the headboard. He saw stars, the pain welcome; but he couldn't understand what was happening as Romulus tore his fingers out of him, Daken's blood spraying on the covers, and snatched Daken's wrists, pulling his arms upwards with violence. He was pounding into Daken, that sneer still in place, and it was as if he were holding himself from tearing Daken's flesh apart.

“You think you can control me? You thought you could play _housewife?_ ” Romulus let go of his wrists and dug his fingers again into Daken's hips. Daken yelped, Romulus' annoyance incomprehensible, and ground against Romulus, shoving Romulus' erection deeper inside himself, desperately trying to have the brutality of Romulus' thrusts match with something at least _akin_ to pleasure again, trying to angle himself as to have Romulus hit his prostate. He caught the headboard, lifted himself, pushed against Romulus, but Romulus was a fury, a beast, and he snarled and quickened his pace and a hand came up again, to push against Daken's throat. “How dare you. How _dare_ you make something that pathetic of me.”

What? What was happening? _Master?_ Daken fought for air, fell limp as Romulus pounded into him, white and grey dots in his vision, and Romulus' palm was crushing his trachea, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't – _what have I done? Why are you punishing me? What, yes, hurt me, like that,_ the air unable to reach his lungs, his insides screaming, torn apart, _oh god yes, yes,_ yes _, fuck, oh, oh, hurt me, master, master, master hurt me, please, hurt me, hurt me, oh, oh oh oh yes can't breath, can't_ –

He woke up amongst sheets soaked with his own blood, Romulus nowhere in sight, and flashes of Romulus' fury were on his underlids, and he ached and he couldn't understand. Maybe Romulus was getting old, wasn't right in the head anymore. Maybe he was senile, his irritation born from some imaginary slight of Daken. This was good; it could mean Romulus would soon be unable to manage his business, and so Daken was closer to inheriting Romulus' empire. The only reason he was suffering Romulus' fucking, now.

 _Liar_.

He shut down that voice. Daken lay on the bed, waiting for his flesh to regrow, for the muscles to reknit themselves, and thought that he had never had sex with Romulus like that before, that for a strange, fleeting moment it had been _different_ , as if they were someone else, as if he himself had something else out there, somebody waiting for him. Some sense of absence he couldn't sate. A stupid sentimentalism.

He got up and got ready for another day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The scene with Itsu was **most definitely** written with [this heartbreaking fanart](http://karaii.tumblr.com/post/71190559673/still-a-mommas-boy-at-60-years-yup) by [karaii](http://karaii.tumblr.com/) in mind * muffled sobbing in the distance * [that _smile_ slays me every time]


End file.
